


One night stand

by ferggirl



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:39:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A challenge from a friend to write some desperation sexy times that got out of control. A rescue mission (for Oliver) gone wrong, gratuitous and uninformed use of the Lazarus Pit (for Tommy),  a sinister drug that results in lots and lots of confusing sexual tension (for everyone), an almost-orgy and a hookup with a future.</p>
<p>It's absurd. Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One night stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Abbie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/gifts).



Darkness. That’s the first thing Oliver notices when he comes gasping out of unconsciousness. He wrenches his eyes open, and waits for them to adjust, to show his surroundings. 

But he gets nothing. Wherever he is, it’s perfectly dark. 

"Ah, welcome back Mr. Queen." A woman’s voice purrs through some kind of intercom, low and threatening. "We’re just waiting on a few more arrivals and then we’ll begin."

Oliver searches back through his memories, pushing aside the throbbing pain in his head. What has he done?

_A flash of blinding light as he ran through a warehouse._

_Diggle yelling at him to fall back. Felicity in his ear asking the same._

_Sara’s cry from just ahead._

_He had to reach her. To warn her. The League was coming._

_Then everything went black._

**_**_ **

One minute, John and Oliver are examining the downed guard, feeding Felicity information so they can figure out who is behind all of the killings, and the next, Sara is screaming. 

Sara, who is supposed to be 100 feet behind them, guarding the doors. But those screams are coming from up ahead. It feels wrong, but before he can caution Oliver, he’s taken off toward the sound. 

Felicity calls out over the comms, and John heads after him, but a flashbomb hides Oliver just long enough for him to get lost in the stacks of boxes. 

"Felicity! Where is he? I can’t — Shit!" He turns, gun at the ready, to find Sara standing right behind him with wild eyes. 

"What happened, where’s Ollie? Felicity told me to come help."

"He — you were…" John swallows and composes himself. "He’s up ahead. They have your voice, somehow."

Her eyes close, just for a moment. When they open again they’re hard and unforgiving. 

The ambush is fast, brutal, and silent.

She takes out seven men and John cuts four more down with his gun before Felicity finally gets a lock on Oliver’s tracker in his boot. 

It’s long gone. 

Sara wants to follow. John wants to plan. They tell Felicity to meet them at his apartment and she is off the comms immediately. 

******

"So we’re clear?" Sara paces the confines of Diggle’s apartment, the growing bruise on her forehead a testament to how hard she’d fought to get to Oliver.

But he’s gone. Felicity refreshes her gps tracking again, hoping the beacon will go live once more. 

The last known location of his boot, at least, was an abandoned research lab damaged in the Glades quake. It was owned by Merlyn Global. 

"We do what we have to in order to get Oliver," Diggle agrees. "But he won’t want us to kill indiscriminately. Non-lethal where we can, Sara."

Felicity’s tablet vibrates as results of a search come in and everyone turns to watch her read it. 

"It’s the guard, the one you were checking when… he doesn’t exist. His name, his address, it’s all fake. Like, created in the last week." She blinks at the results and drags the guy’s face into her preset folder to search the international police databases. 

Sara leans in. “Zoom in on his neck?”

Felicity goes as far as she can without pixelating. There’s a tattoo, nothing showy, sticking out of the collar of his shirt. Sara grimaces. 

"The League."

"I thought Nyssa was going to leave you in peace?" Digg looks surprised. 

"Nyssa does not control them," Sara says. "Much as she likes to think she can."

"Is that why they were able to make it sound like you were somewhere you weren’t?" Felicity asks, hurrying to input the new information into her database of recognizable marks and criminal organizations. "Because you used to work for them?"

"Maybe," Sara’s not offended by the question, just thoughtful. "I didn’t hear about any activity in Starling."

"What are you thinking?" Diggle stands, crossing his arms. "I can see you have a thought, so you might as well share."

Sara hesitates, staring out the window. “Time was I’d just go now. Safer, faster, easier. Do the job myself.”

"But we’re a team." Felicity’s voice is soft and her hand on Sara’s arm brings a smile to the other woman’s face.

"We are." She turns to look Diggle in the eyes. "There’s a holding facility. Sometimes the League needs bait to catch their fish. In this case, I’m the fish. Nyssa could only hold them off for so long." 

"So how do we slip the hook?"

"It’s not going to be easy."

******

They get no ransom, no contact of any kind. Sara takes that as confirmation.

The next morning, they’re all on a plane to Canada. The holding facility is deep in the north country, where no one will ask too many questions and a strange car sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Felicity buys one used, an old clunker that she and Diggle upgrade to run pretty and look dirty. 

They’ve all got the GPS coordinates on their phones. Sara’s going to rendezvous after getting some supplies. She’s coming by plane, with plans to parachute down outside the compound. 

Felicity is going to knock. She’s a state building inspector, who needs a quick tour of the facility to renew their lease of government land. She’s so obviously not a threat, Sara says, that it will confuse the League and she’ll have time to find Oliver. 

Diggle is backup. He’s got several big guns and the getaway car in case they need a fast retreat. He argues for a bigger role, but Sara says he’s too clearly a soldier and they’ll kill him if he’s caught. 

Oliver would hate their plan. But it’s the only one they’ve got.

******

Felicity can pinpoint the moment it all goes to hell. She’s carefully noting the width of their third bathroom when three shots ring out a few rooms away. Her escorts trade a look behind her and the next thing she knows, she’s up against a wall, her hands secured behind her back.

"It was a good try, Miss Smoak," the taller man smiles. "But the Doctor is ready for you now."

They don’t bother to blindfold her, but she is gagged. She counts three flights of stairs and about seven turns through a maze of hallways before they reach a heavy metal door. 

It opens to reveal her team. All of them. 

Oliver, drooping unconscious and tied to a chair. Sara slumped up against the wall, handcuffed to a pipe. Diggle is just laid out on the floor. And in the far corner, half-hidden in the shadows, there’s a man with dark hair who looks awfully familiar being held by two more assassins.

"Welcome, Ms. Smoak." A tall woman walks to the center of the room, a vicious smile on her face. "And thus my task is complete."

One of her guards pulls her gag off, and Felicity gasps in relief. “What do you want with us?”

"I am in an uncomfortable situation," she says. "I find myself hired to do three jobs, all of them revolving around your little clan here."

"Plenty of people want them dead. We’re not that easy to kill."

"Oh, sweet thing." She laughs, and it’s menacing. "I didn’t say I was going to kill anyone. No, I was hired to make Sara Lance and Oliver Queen suffer. There are many ways to do that. But this one is a particular favorite of mine."

She gestures to a tray of syringes, gleaming silver and full of a clear blue liquid that gives Felicity a gnawing fear in the pit of her stomach. 

"I did say  _three_  jobs, though, didn’t I?” The woman glances over her shoulder at the shadowed corner. “Ah well. I have fulfilled the third in letter, if not in spirit. But come here, and let’s start tearing the Arrow apart from the inside.”

She’s been held before with needles to her neck. But Felicity has never felt so very alone.

It burns as it courses through her veins, and she’s in too much pain to notice when she’s left to sit against a wall. The woman makes the rounds, injecting each member of the unconscious team with the same serum. 

Then she looks at her watch. Felicity strains to hear her over the faint ringing in her ears. “Hmmm, I have a plane to catch. It was a  _pleasure_ , Ms. Smoak. I do so love when the League lets me…. experiment.”

Felicity hears the door clang shut as the buzzing in her ears increases and her vision blurs. Then a man is leaning over her, all blue-eyed concern. 

"Felicity? Can you hear me?"

She blinks once, twice. The darkness pulls at her but his face is maddeningly familiar. 

_"Tommy?"_

******

He’s disoriented. His veins burn and the puncture wound on his neck implies that there’s a reason for that. 

Plus he’s relatively sure he’s supposed to be dead.

But Tommy is more distracted by the other people he can see in the room when they take away his blindfold. 

Oliver. John Diggle. Is that Sara Lance? And there, slumped up against the wall and sliding to the floor, Felicity Smoak. 

His feet are heavy and awkward as he drags them in her direction. She’s the only one moving, so it seems right.

"Felicity?" His tongue works to get the syllables out. His mouth is so dry. "Can you hear me?"

She blinks up at him, clearly fighting to keep her eyes open. 

_“Tommy?”_  

She reaches out and her hand cups his cheek. For that moment, with her skin touching his, he feels nothing but sweet relief. Then she slips into unconsciousness and her hand falls to her lap.

He props her up as gently as he can with hands that seem a size too large, and checks the others. All have pulses. All have the same puncture wounds. There are five empty syringes on the small table by the door. 

He tests the handle and it swings open. 

Interesting. 

He finds a bathroom four doors down, and fills the little plastic trashcan with water. 

Oliver wakes with the first splash. Sara takes two. Diggle is groggy and shies away before he hits him at all. He doesn’t have the heart to soak Felicity. 

There’s a lot of staring. Oliver cries as he grabs Tommy’s arm. Sara looks worried. 

They limp out of the compound unopposed. All of the doors are open. Their car is waiting for them. Diggle has the syringes in that plastic trashcan.

They all complain of the burning. 

******

Oliver’s head is pounding when they pull into the hotel. It’s a quiet place, with few other guests, and they blink a few times when he pulls out his platinum card and asks for the entire top floor. 

He doesn’t want to be disturbed.

That gives them 10 rooms, including three suites. He doles out keys randomly and they all retire to their rooms to wash away the dirt of the day. 

The burn of the injection has mostly faded by the time he wraps a towel around his waist and stares at his face in the foggy mirror. 

The injection spot is slightly raised, a little red, but shows no signs of poison or infection. In fact, he feels fine, just a little… hungry. 

He digs around in the minibar and tosses back some peanuts. It doesn’t help. He pulls his pants back on and sits on the bed, wondering if they need to make a run to a fast food joint or talk the kitchen into reopening. Or if he should be more worried that his best friend is in the shower across the hall. The best friend he saw die. 

The knock on his door is a welcome distraction. 

Felicity pops her head in. She’s pulled her wet hair back, and is wearing a set of snowman pajamas that are, frankly, adorable. 

"How are you feeling?" She takes a few steps in and he shrugs in answer. "Well I had a rudimentary kit in the car, of course, so I did the best I could with a few drops of the serum that was left in one of the syringes."

He reaches out and touches her arm, bringing her to a stop. “Should we get the others?”

She doesn’t answer, just stares at his hand. His vague hunger, the one that was not satisfied by snacks from the minibar has roared to life. Suddenly the only solution he can see is her naked in bed with him, her skin touching his skin as much as possible. 

He should move it. He should move his hand off of her arm. 

But her face is flushed and she’s breathing really fast. 

"Felicity?" 

She steps away first, backing up against the door. He wants to follow, to pull her clothes off and just touch her. But Oliver’s had a lot of practice at staying still. 

"Oh no." Her whisper is choked with dismayed laughter. "I thought I would run this by you first but… maybe we should get… get the others."

The knock startles her and she jumps, looking trapped and a bit nervous. 

Something twists in his gut. She’s scared of him. Of  _them._  

"Felicity." It comes out as a growl. "I won’t — just sit over there. I’ll get the door."

She nods, but her color is still high and his blood is still roaring with the memory of her skin touching his. 

They cross on opposite sides of the room. 

Sara’s standing in the hall, looking angry and incredibly hot. 

"We need to talk."

"Felicity wants me to get everyone."

"Not yet," she pushes past him, tugging at his hand to lead him back into the room. They make it a few steps before she stops and turns to look at him. "Shit."

It’s still there, that rushing need for skin, for contact. They lean into each other at the same time, lips meeting as her hands sliding up his torso and his cup her waist. 

"Uh, guys?" Felicity’s a little breathless but still very much embarrassed. "Hot as I’m sure that is going to be, maybe you should hear me out first?"

Sara shudders against him, and curses. “I had something to say, too.”

It’s harder to walk away from Sara. She’s not afraid of his need, she revels in it. But when she pushes him back he stays put. Just barely. 

"So talk." His hands are clenched into fists and he can’t look either of them in the eye. 

Sara rubs her hands over her face. “Lazarus Pit. Somehow they got Tommy to one. Has to be.”

"What does that mean?" Felicity asks. 

"I don’t know. He could be fine right up until he’s not. It’s him, it’s just… he’ll be different. It breaks something inside the people it saves."

Oliver sinks onto the bed, trying to think over his rising need to be rip the clothes off of either or both of the women in his room. 

"So we’ll be careful," he says. "Felicity?"

"Not a poison that I can detect." Felicity has pulled her legs up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around them. "The closest match I got was a drug meant for patients with nerve damage. Improves their skin sensitivity, their reaction to touch. But this is a dozen times more concentrated."

"Are we safer alone?" Sara is eyeing Felicity hungrily, and it sets Oliver’s need down a different road. 

Felicity bites her lip and both Oliver and Sara groan. “What? I’m not sure. The studies were discontinued because some patients would over stimulate. They’d hit the limb against anything they could when their own touch wasn’t enough to stop the burn. The more successful patients were those who did not live alone. Married, in relationships.”

Oliver looks at Sara. “So what are our options here?”

"We can hope we will sleep it off," she murmurs, "without feeling the need to bang our limbs against sharp objects. Or we can… let it happen."

The rush of relief when she says that is intense. He wants so badly to let it happen. 

"Let what happen?" Felicity’s voice has gone up an octave. "Because while I certainly am having the urge to get naked and rub myself all over you, I’m hoping you’re not actually thinking about letting that happen. We work together. At work. Together."

Sara laughs. “Maybe we can all just cuddle, Felicity.”

"We have to get Diggle and Tommy before this hits them too hard." Felicity’s face is red, and her voice is determined. "I don’t want anyone to get hurt."

Sara nods, and turns for the door. “Give me a minute.”

"Felicity." He gentles his voice this time, focuses on that image Sara just presented them of just being wrapped around each other, sleepy and safe and  _touching._  “Something else is bothering you.”

"Oh, you mean besides the sudden need to participate in that great Canadian tradition — the post-capture orgy?"

So much for cuddling. Oliver grits his teeth against the surge of need.

"Yes. Aside from that." 

"Well they brought me into the room awake, you know?" she sounds troubled, and he wants to comfort her. But he usually does that with a touch — a hand on her shoulder or a squeeze of hands. "And the lady in charge was spouting off all kinds of stuff. Some of it’s fuzzy. But she did say she was going to tear our team apart from the inside."

Her eyes meet his and underneath the heat there’s fear. “What if this is what she meant?”

"We’ll get through this," he promises. 

"Get through what?" Diggle steps through the door, followed by Tommy and then Sara. "What the hell is going on?"

"And why do I feel the sudden need to have sex with… all of you?" Tommy chimes in, a crooked smile on his face.

******

They sit in a circle, maintaining as much distance as possible. Felicity gives the basic rundown of the drug one more time. She rubs her arm on the desk beside her as she explains, up and down, harder and harder until Sara walks over and takes it in her hand.

"You’re hurting yourself," she says fiercely. 

She pulls Felicity up and over to the edge of the bed, sitting behind her and running her hands along Felicity’s forearms. Oliver’s whole body tenses as Felicity shudders in relief. Sara smiles and pulls her in closer.

"The doses, were they all the same?" Diggle’s question is clipped. Felicity nods. "No wonder you’re worse off. Sara might have some immunity from her time in the League, and the rest of us outweigh you by a lot."

Felicity has one hand hooked around Sara’s neck and the other laced through one of her hands. She looks drunk, just a little happy to Oliver’s best judgement. But her left arm is red from the abuse, and he knows they’re not going to be able to stay alone. 

Tommy drags his eyes away from the two women twined around each other, and looks to Oliver. “So what can we do?”

Sara finds words first, one hand skimming under Felicity’s pajama top across her stomach. “What we need to make it through the night. But we watch our limits. No sex unless everyone involved agrees.”

Diggle pulls his shirt off and the room goes quiet. Oliver has to swallow back his sudden awareness of his friend’s body. The women are less subtle in their sighs. “This is weird as shit,” Digg shakes his head. ”Here, I’ll hold Felicity while you plan our not-orgy.”

She slides into his arms with a happy giggle, pressing her face against his bare chest.

Sara looks bereft without her, so Oliver links his hand with hers. “Felicity, how long do we have to wait this out?”

Sara, not content to hold hands, climbs into his lap. She leans back against his bare chest and lets her neck lie across his shoulder. He can feel her pulse pound against his skin and lets his hands slide beneath her t-shirt.

Felicity speaks into Diggle’s chest, and even the stoic soldier looks like the drug is starting to affect him. “Hard to tell. Articles said regular doses lasted for weeks, but we just had one. Sara do you know?”

She’s purring beneath his hands, and he can’t seem to stop long enough for her to answer the question. Everyone’s breathing heavily at this point. Oliver feels like all of the air has gone out of the room. 

Tommy is the only one in the room not connected to another person, and he’s visibly shaking with the effort of standing still. Sara reaches a hand out. “Come here, poor thing.” 

She tugs him down beside them, and his hand finds her free one. “Wow, that is quite the rush,” he says, flushing and laughing at his own reaction.

Sara adjusts so she’s in between them, bringing his hands closer to her breasts and Oliver’s not sure how long he can resist losing some clothes. But there was a question… ”Sara. The drug. How long?”

"Mmmmm, right. She said it was concentrated but meant to be given in regular doses?" She breathes deeply, stilling as she works through the problem. "It would increase the intensity of the reaction, but decrease the window. 24 hours?"

Diggle groans, Felicity draped around his shoulders. “Oh hell, this is going to get awkward, isn’t it?”

Tommy brushes Oliver’s bare shoulder and it’s a shock of need that has him turning his head.

His recently-rediscovered best friend looks rueful, but doesn’t pull away. “Remember those uppers, your 18th birthday?”

Oliver nods. It’s not a pleasant memory. They hadn’t known much about drugs then, for all they’d dabbled. The blend had been brutal, with hallucinations, racing thoughts and a really increased sex drive. 

"We ran around the manor until we were so tired we couldn’t do anything stupid." Not the most elegant of solutions, but they’d been scared kids and it had let them sleep off the worst of it. 

Sara wraps an arm around each of them, and Oliver leans down to nibble on her neck. “Are you suggesting we beat the shit out of each other?” she asks with a smile in her smoky voice.

"The three of us, anyway," Diggle chimes in. "Running isn’t going to wear us down very fast."

"I can take Felicity," Tommy offers. Oliver stiffens, and he feels Sara do the same. Diggle doesn’t make a move to release her. "Or you can all look at me like I’m intending to eat her brains. Something I should know?"

"He’s not going to eat my  _brains_ , you guys,” Felicity smiles crookedly, sliding down from Diggle’s arms and sighing when she loses contact with him. “Just maybe some kissing, some skin, you know. There are other ways of being physically active.”

Sara’s grip on Tommy tightens. “What do you remember?” she snarls, holding him in place.

"Of what she just said? The kissing and skin stand out, honestly." 

"Of the Lazarus Pit."

Oliver holds his breath, watching the barest hint of recognition pass over Tommy’s otherwise baffled face. 

"I don’t… I don’t know." He looks at her, then to Oliver. "Should I?"

"Listen, as fascinating as I’m sure this conversation is going to be to me tomorrow night, I’m actually going to combust if someone doesn’t touch me  _immediately,_ " Felicity says, pulling her shirt over her head. It effectively stops the entire discussion. Oliver’s mouth goes dry. "It’s less embarrassing to admit than it was half an hour ago. I think it helps that I am in fact sexually attracted to everyone in this room."

"Felicity," Diggle is grinning, but his repetitive movements suggest he’s right on the edge and holding on with everything he’s got. "Ok, you tell us what you want to do."

Her plan is simple. They have to resolve this with the least amount of damage to each other and to their relationships. 

"Since Oliver and Sara are used to seeing each other naked, they can just do that if it gets too strong. But I like the fighting thing, because that way Diggle can feel better too." She pats Digg on the arm and Oliver can see the man fight for control. "Plus everyone but Tommy is looking at me like I’m breakable, so I think he’s going to be the least weird about this later."

Oliver wants to argue, wants to make them all just stop talking, wants to touch and tease and  _god_ , maybe she’s right. 

"Fine, but you stay close," Sara growls her disapproval. Felicity nods and Tommy shrugs agreement.

Sara kisses Oliver hard before she stalks over to the connecting door and starts pushing the beds to the side to clear a space for sparring. Diggle joins her and Oliver is left standing between Felicity and Tommy. 

He just wants to warn him, to reassure him that he cares and he believes that he’ll do the right thing. 

But a hand on the shoulder leads to a hug that ends with Oliver’s hands under Tommy’s shirt and Tommy’s in his hair. 

Felicity’s gasp of “holy shit, you two” is what reminds him to pull away. 

"Anything goes wrong," Oliver turns to Felicity, his breath coming fast, arms crossed so he doesn’t try to touch her too, "you send him in. Sara will come to you. We’ll figure this out, ok?"

She gives a little salute and he ducks through the door. 

******

Tommy feels a bit like Harry Potter, the chosen one. Except this is the awesome porn version where the really hot Ravenclaw sneaks into his bedchamber right after he’s nearly made out with Ron Weasley…

"So you were dead," she says conversationally, shimmying out of her pajama pants. "How’s that feel?"

He takes the hint and pulls the shirt Oliver had loaned him over his head. “Uh, better? I think?”

"That’s good. So here’s the deal. I am not breakable, I am not unaware of why I have these physical urges, but you seemed like the person least likely to beat yourself up later if we have a whole lot of really naked sex tonight."

"Ok." He swallows hard and reaches for her, his fingers skimming along her stomach and lighting a fire in his gut. Touching Oliver and Sara had been necessary, a physical need driven by the drug. Touching Felicity was all of that, plus a rush of happiness, a coming home. 

"But they’re going to be weird, so I suggest we close that door."

He’s not sure he can let her go, but she gives him a little push and he manages to fumble the lock into place, catching just a glimpse of three sweaty bodies in blurry motion that could be a fight or a fuck, he can’t tell. 

The lock clicks and she’s there. Wrapped around him, pressed as close as she can be. Her fingers trail over his chest, the big smooth scar slowing her for a moment, until he bends and captures her mouth with his own. The driving need is a drumbeat in his head, his chest, his belly. His last coherent thought is a question. “Condoms?”

"Not part of my packing. We’re going to have to be creative," she gasps out. 

"I can be creative," he says against the pulse point in her neck. Then he lifts her, and a few stumbling laughing steps later, they’re sprawled on the bed. Everywhere she touches his body roars to life, sparking with lust and need and hunger. "Holy shit,  _Felicity._ ”

"I know." She arches against him. It’s fast, and they stick to fingers and mouths and the third time she cries out his name he comes in her hand.

"I hope you’re a cuddler," she murmurs, wrapping herself around him. "What did it look like over there?"

He shifts so she’s on top of him, as much skin to skin contact as possible. “They were all moving a bit fast, but I was worried they were having more fun than us.”

"No way," she laughs sleepily. 

"Agreed." He tangles a hand in her hair and waits for her to settle into sleep. After about five minutes, she turns her head to look at him. 

"Mmmmm, nope, not sleepy yet. This drug is hardcore."

Her hand glides down his ribs and he bites his lip at the pleasure. “Well let’s see what we can do to fix that.”

******

Felicity wakes feeling warm and safe and… a bit smushed. 

It’s been a long night. The three warriors kept up their exhaustive sparring well past the time when Tommy and Felicity had wrung the last bits of pleasure out of their frenzied state. She remembers falling asleep to the sound of flesh hitting flesh, muffled grunts and the occasional curse. 

She’s not expecting to see the tangle of arms that greets her when she opens her eyes. 

That one’s Tommy’s, for sure, as it’s wrapped around her, holding them flush against each other. But the hand tangled in her hair looks attached to Sara. The one on her hip is definitely Oliver. And her right hand is laced through Diggle’s. 

She closes her eyes and waits for the driving need, the hunger to hit again. 

Her stomach growls loudly and Tommy laughs into her hair. ”Good morning to you, too.”

"Shut up, Tommy." Oliver’s voice is coming from somewhere on the other side of him. Sara stretches and trails her hand down Felicity’s neck. 

Digg sits up. “Anyone else feel better?”

There’s silence as they all consider. It stretches as their positions slowly dawn on them, and there’s some awkward rearranging of pillows and Felicity winds up half wrapped in a sheet by a sheepish Tommy. 

Then her stomach growls again and she laughs. “Well I’m hungry. But not for sex. I think I got most of that out of my system last night. In case you all couldn’t tell by the naked cuddling.”

Oliver makes a weird growling, coughing noise, and Sara laughs as she shoves him back down on the bed. “You two seemed pretty cozy when we finally wore ourselves out.”

Tommy’s sheepish look melts away into a rather devilish grin. “Well we wanted to make sure you weren’t having all the fun.”

Diggle moves first, muttering something about way more information than he ever wanted, and grabs his pants off the floor as he heads for the hallway and his own room. The four left on the bed burst out laughing. 

"Poor Digg," Felicity gasps. "Tell me you just fought last night."

Oliver and Sara share a look, and then Oliver says carefully, “We just fought last night.”

Tommy shakes his head. “Right. Breakfast. We promised this wouldn’t be weird, so up and at em, Smoak. I’ll escort you to your clothing.”

In the hallway, still wrapped in a sheet with her crumpled pajamas balled up in one hand, she looks up at him. “So when I said we were going to need to be creative — I am impressed, Merlyn.”

He grins, standing unashamed in his boxers as he waits for her to work the electronic keycard. “And I didn’t even get to use the main playbook. You’re welcome back anytime, Smoak. There’s so much we didn’t get to try.”

She turns to laugh with him, but instead she finds herself staring at him staring at her lips. The kiss is soft and exploratory, nipping and licking at the edges of the passion they’d found last night. But the rush in her veins feels very similar. 

"I’ll keep that under consideration, Merlyn," she breathes. Then her door beeps, and she flees in to her clothes and her shower and her memories. "See you at breakfast?"

The last thing she sees is his crooked smile. “Yeah, maybe you will.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Starting over again](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6209401) by [ferggirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl)




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